This Time of Year
by startswithhope
Summary: Beginning the weekend after Halloween on Storybrooke Farm, two loners find their paths colliding thanks to an old horse, an unexpected snowstorm and even a dash of holiday cheer. (upgraded to an M rating)
1. Halloween

A wince inducing creak sounds as he pushes the door of his truck open with his work boot and another item is mentally added to the constantly growing to do list in his brain. He's sure he has some grease in the toolbox in the bed, but he'll have to get to it on his lunch break. It's already nearing 8 am and he wants to get a start on things before the place is inundated with toddlers and strollers and shrieking teenage girls.

Strolling past the ticketing booth he gives a nonchalant wave to the morning's volunteers and a salacious wink to Granny Lucas as she ducks into the back of the concession building with arms full of hot dog and hamburger buns. One week in and he'd found her sweet side, having flirted his way into free burgers (with extra bacon) and a convenient look away whenever the apple cider donuts are fresh out of her oven. No matter where he ends up he can always find his way to pirate what he needs without giving up much of anything in return.

Despite the brisk autumn chill, he rolls the sleeves of his flannel into tight rolls below each elbow in preparation for the work ahead as his boots crunch through crackling leaves and the dew soaked grass. Knowing he might not see this again for a long while, he makes sure to take in the sea of color in the trees around him, mentally snapping a picture full of reds and oranges he's not soon to forget.

"Jones, can you manage the hay on your own this morning? Had to sack Scarlet last night after I caught his hand in the tip box...again."

Anton, the tallest man Killian has ever seen in real life and the owner of the farm, looks even more frazzled than usual as his eyes dart from the mangled hayride seats to the watch cutting off the circulation of his too thick wrist.

"Aye, boss, I can handle it. Will was never much use anyway."

"Thanks, Killian. When you're done here, we need to restock the cornhusks and fill the petting zoo feeders and…"

"Mate, take a breath."

"Sorry, sorry, I am just so ready for this day to be done and I can close up shop. At least with Halloween over we won't be up all night with that damn corn maze. That reminds me, I have something to ask you later, so find me before you head out tonight."

Anton's long legs have him halfway to the pumpkin patch before Killian has a chance to respond. Curiosity as to what the boss wants to ask him keeps Killian's mind occupied as he works to reshape the hay bales into benches, replacing the few that are beyond repair. His shoulders ache by the time he's finished, but it's a good ache, the kind he's come to appreciate after a day of steady, honest work. As he strides over the cornhusk catapult he rakes his hands through his thick, dark hair in hopes of freeing any stray pieces of straw left behind. He may be working on a farm, but he refuses to look like a straggly country bumpkin'. He has a reputation to maintain.

Reputation might be too strong a word as usually a person needs to stay in the same place long enough to garner one. Instead, he's just a travelling stranger, sometimes broody and often sarcastic, but always this side of dashing. The accent obviously helps and he's never been averse to using it to his advantage when the need happens to arise. This persona has served him well so far so he doesn't see any reason to change his ways. His new ways that is…

Three full years have passed since he's found himself in any real trouble. In fact, it was only thanks to the assigned community service from that last criminal act that led him to the seasonal farm circuit to begin with. Petty theft wasn't enough for prison time, but the judge wasn't in the mood for a slap on the wrist. The first three weeks at the local farm raking manure and hauling pumpkins were ordered by the court, but the last two he was paid for, realizing this was an easier way to earn a paycheck than his prior activities that had led him there in the first place. That first season was spent in Massachusetts, the following in Vermont and this year, Maine. The vibe here has been much the same as the previous two farms, but he'd been feeling something in him settle with each passing day. He'd even looked at the local paper once or twice to check the classifieds for job openings and land for sale, but he just chalked that up as a flight of fancy and never followed up on anything he found.

Not for the first time today he has to tamp down the bubbling up of regret that this will, in fact, be his last day at Storybrooke Farms. He was really beginning to like this place.

* * *

"Jones, the Sheriff is looking for ya!"

In his old life, a statement like that would have been a cause for alarm. In this one, it's a minor annoyance. Nolan can be a real pain in the arse and he wasn't expecting to have to deal with him today. The niggling feeling that he's actually glad to be able to say his farewell to the man is quickly ignored.

"Where's he at?"

Not one for pleasantries, Leroy just keeps on his path grunting something that sounds like "She's in the barn."

She? He's been here since the first leaf turned red back in September and he's pretty sure he's met every single resident of this sleepy little town. And considering the biggest thief around here is Will bloody Scarlet, why is there a need for more than one Sheriff anyway?

As he turns up the hill leading to the small barn near the back of the farm he's momentarily blinded by the setting sun. After a few blinks he can just make out a silhouette on the horizon, a distinctly feminine one with hands perched in obvious impatience on slightly rounded hips. A few feet from the crest of the hill he has to stop in his tracks as the woman waiting for him comes into clear view. The sun has lit her golden hair aflame behind her like some ethereal goddess come down from the heavens to grant his every desire as the sparkling green of her eyes pierces the very deep and hibernating center of his heart.

Yes, that's a ridiculous flight of fancy, but she's bloody gorgeous and his imagination is running full steam away from itself.

"Are you Killian?"

"Aye, love, Killian Jones, and who do I have the pleasure of...?"

"Emma Swan."

He can't help but be curious to learn the reasoning behind her briskness, be it mere impatience or disinterest or something else altogether. It's unusual for him to have to exert much energy when it comes to the opposite sex, but this Emma Swan poses an interesting challenge.

"And here I thought Nolan was the only Sheriff in town. How is it that I'm only now learning of your lovely existence?"

"Need to know, I guess."

Finally having reached the top of the hill, he plants himself as close to her as he senses she's comfortable with and hooks one thumb into his belt.

"Oh, there are many things I need, love."

Her eyes narrow a bit at that and he braces himself for her retort, but she surprises him, and he thinks maybe even herself when a smile cracks her facade and small laugh escapes her throat. Her amusement should bristle his ego, but he's too dumbstruck. Never has he been so affected by a woman's smile in his life. If this is to be his last remaining hours in this place, he will endeavor to spend as much of it in the presence of Emma Swan.

"So, Romeo...Anton tells me you know a thing or two about horses?"

"I certainly do. What can I help you with?"

"There's a horse at the next farm over that we need to go pick up. I can drive the trailer, but I'll need you to deal with the animal."

Obviously expecting he will follow, she turns on her heel and begins to lead them both to the back of the barn where the truck and horse trailer are parked.

"Why the devil is the man bringing in a new horse on the last day of the season?"

"I asked him the same thing, but he just said 'one man's trash is another man's treasure' or something like that."

That man's body is only as big as it is in order to contain his ginormous heart. He's obviously saving an old mare from being put out to pasture.

"Such a sentimental giant, that Anton."

Having reached the truck already, Emma turns and their eyes meet and he sees a flicker of surprise she quickly hides again behind her well constructed mask.

"Appearances aren't always what they seem."

"Aye, love, that they are not."

He takes his time, walking around the back of the trailer instead of the front of the truck to reach the passenger door so he can make an attempt at gathering his wits. This spitfire of a woman has him feeling energized in ways he hasn't in more years than he wishes to count and it's equally terrifying and liberating at the same time. As the world around him prepares for hibernation, he finds himself faced with an early and unexpected Spring.

"Hurry up, Jones, we're losing the light!"

Twilight is indeed fast approaching and he hastens his strides to his side of the truck. She doesn't turn as he climbs in beside her or when he casually drapes his arm along the back of the bench seat they share. He doesn't touch her, just lets his fingers tap against the leather a few inches from her ear as she navigates the truck down the gravel driveway and onto the dirt road leading out of Storybrooke Farm.

Silence descends as the tires bounce them along the uneven path ahead and he tries to think of a topic of conversation that might give him an in to learn more about the woman by his side.

"So, where did you learn about horses?"

His hand falls onto the seat between them in surprise at her question and he has to scramble quickly to decide just how much he wants to reveal. She's managed to turn the tables on him before he even had a chance to give her a nudge.

"At my last job their stable hand got injured and I was tasked with becoming his apprentice. I soon discovered an unexpected love for the beasts and they seemed to be of similar mind about me."

Hopefully that was enough of an answer to peak her interest without a desire to dig farther back into his history.

"Where was this last job? I'm guessing not around here as I'd imagine I'd have run into you before now"

Well, so much for that.

"No, nowhere around here, Swan. My travels only lead me here at the beginning of the season. I spent the previous year up north. If we're answering questions, though, where have you been these past few weeks? I've seen Nolan practically every night and he's never once mentioned you."

There's a noticeable whitening of her knuckles on the steering wheel and he fully expects her not to answer.

He's pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong.

"I'm just filling in as Sheriff for the next few weeks while he's on paternity leave. He's the family guy, so he's managed the farm duties up until tonight. We both agree I'm better with bar fights and traffic stops."

Imagining Emma breaking up a rowdy bunch of drunks shouldn't be a turn on, but bless it, he has to shift in his seat to adjust his tightening jeans. He's so distracted with his body's reaction to her that it takes a moment for her words to really sink in. Perhaps she's like him, another lonely soul just trying to find her place in a world built on connection. He wants to dig deeper, find the stem of that loneliness and explore the many branches, but all too soon the truck pulls to a stop and their destination is reached.

"Let's make this quick. George is a jackass on his nicer days and I'd rather not spend more time with him than necessary."

Nodding his assent, Killian extricates himself from the truck and moves to the trailer to ready it for the horse while Emma deals with the surly looking farmer waiting by the barn. He can't hear what is said, but he he can see the tension coiled tight in her spine and the defiant strength of her stance. She truly is a force to behold. He makes his way to her side just as a fearful looking stable boy emerges from the barn with a slow moving chestnut mare in his wake.

"What's her name?"

George doesn't even look his way as he answers with a gruff, "Compass Rose, and I'm glad to be rid of her."

"I'd venture to say the feeling is mutual."

George puffs up at his chest at that but Killian ignores him and moves forward to take the reigns from the stable boy so he can lead the mare to their trailer. The Lady Rose, as he now thinks of her, huffs a bit through her nose before deciding that Killian can be trusted and alright to follow. He murmurs a few words of encouragement at the foot of the trailer, careful to not get his fingers caught in her dreadfully tangled mahogany colored mane as he coaxes her up the ramp. There's fury in his eyes as he looks back over at George, who in his opinion, should be taken out and shot for how he obviously doesn't care for the animals in his charge.

"Everything good?"

Unable to shake his annoyance before shifting his attention back to Emma, he's thankful to see a similar expression on her face as well.

"It will be once he get her home."

That thing, that flicker, it's back again and this time it's communicating scraps of her story only someone who's shared a similar one would be able to decipher. Silently following his instructions, she looks completely lost in her head as she helps him secure the back of the trailer before climbing back into the driver's seat. He doesn't even waste energy asking George or the stable boy anything about Lady Rose, just climbs in beside Emma so they can get out of this place as quickly as possible.

"I'm thankful Anton sent us on this rescue mission, wouldn't you agree, Swan?"

"Yeah...no one deserves...I mean...you know…"

He gives a quick glance over at her profile and finds her lips pulled tight and a deep furrow set in her brow. As much as he wants to know her story so he can confirm his own suspicions, he knows it wouldn't be right to scale that particular wall when she's still so disarmed.

"Aye, love, unfortunately...I do."

The truck slows slightly as she shifts her gaze to meet his and he thinks for a moment she might actually stop and ask him what he means. But that moment doesn't last and gravel once again kicks up beneath the tires as she drives them in strained silence the rest of the way back to the farm.

Anton is waiting for them as Emma backs the trailer up with perfect precision, not even needing his help to navigate the now night darkened driveway. Leaving her to pass along their interaction with George, he makes quick work of lowering the ramp and leading Lady Rose down and into her new home. The stalls are nothing special, but at least they are clean and have fresh hay. Emma appears again after a few minutes, leaning her hip against the barn door with no obvious intention of coming inside.

"So...Killian, I guess I'll see you around?"

Ignoring the cringe he feels in his gut just isn't possible, but he does his best not to show any outward reaction to her seemingly innocuous farewell. He doesn't know what to do with the feeling that he's lost something he never actually had.

"Actually, you won't, love. I'm on the road again first thing tomorrow."

She's suddenly standing ramrod straight with her hands folded tight across her chest and he knows immediately that he's fucked everything up. But what was there really to fuck up anyway? He's leaving. Tomorrow.

"Well then, safe travels...Jones."

Before he can think of something to say to even attempt to save this disaster she's gone, tiny puffs of dust where her boots dug into gravel the only thing left of her by the time he steps out of the barn to see which direction she went. If he had any faith in second chances he'd go in search, but he's long since given up that kind of thinking. This is the life he's been dealt and no matter how much his gut is telling him to do otherwise, he turns and walks back into the barn and back to Lady Rose.

When Anton comes to find him an hour later, he's soaked from the waist up and exhausted, having combed and washed and brushed Lady Rose until she shone like a new penny. She may be old, but she's a beauty. Anton was right, she's a treasure.

"Killian, you didn't have to do all that…"

"Nonsense. No one else around here knows a lick about horses."

"You're right about that. So...I was wondering what your plans are now that the season is over?"

Running his fingers through the mare's still stubbornly tangled mane, he tries to find an answer that won't sound like sandpaper on his tongue. Bloody hell, he doesn't want to leave.

"Off to find work somewhere, mate."

"So you don't have anything lined up?"

"Not as of yet, no."

"Good, because I've got a proposition for you."


	2. Thanksgiving

"Okay, they just finished salting Main Street and the plows are staged and gassed up."

In full Sheriff mode, David has every moment of this organized to the minute, meaning in less than twenty she should find herself home in her apartment with a book and snuggled into her favorite sweatpants.

Nodding at his downturned head as he checks off his list, Emma fills him in on the last item on hers.

"Belle delivered copies of the phone tree to everyone and stocked up supplies in case she needs to shelter anyone in the library. That generator she thought to buy last winter might end up being a lifesaver."

David smiles at that before crossing to his desk to forward the emergency line to his cell.

"She really is a lot smarter than this town gives her credit for. I'm gonna go drop the last batch of water off at the animal shelter before picking up Mary Margaret. Are you all set?"

Scanning her eyes up and down her list one more time, she gives him a thumbs up.

"All set. I'm heading home."

"Remember, if this thing isn't as bad as we think it will be, Thanksgiving will be back on and we'll expect you promptly at noon tomorrow."

Hoping she's able to feign enough excitement at the prospect of that, she knocks her hand against her forehead in an exaggerated salute.

"Yessir!"

When he turns his back to shrug into his coat she checks the weather app on her phone one more time, sending out a silent plea to still see 100% next to the little snowflakes. It's not that she loves snow, but the idea of skipping Thanksgiving without guilt is just about her perfect scenario. She loves David and Mary Margaret, more than she ever imagined she had the capacity to, but that doesn't make her own lack of any real family any easier to deal with on these gloomy winter holidays.

With impending meteorological events still looking favorable, she pockets her phone and is halfway zipped into her puffy coat when she hears David curse under his breath.

"What is it?"

"I forgot about Anton. I've left him a few messages, but he hasn't called back, so I was going to drive out there to make sure he knows about the planned road closures. We won't be able to get out to his place for a while if we get more than a foot of this stuff."

"I can handle it."

What's another half hour, really? The storm isn't set to hit until after nightfall, so she's got plenty of time.

"Are you sure? That would be a huge help, really."

"Of course. Go. I've got this."

His thank you comes with a bear hug and a kiss to her forehead before he's out the door and climbing into his pickup truck. This leaves the cruiser and her VW bug for her to drive out to Anton's farm. It's sheer laziness that has her leaving the keys to the cruiser on the hook, not wanting to have to come back to the station to switch cars when she gets back into town.

The fact that her bug is absolute shit in any kind of snow doesn't even cross her mind.

* * *

Gravel churns and spits up into the bug's undercarriage as she pulls to a stop in the empty driveway in front of Anton's one room farmhouse. With no sign of his truck, she prepares herself for the annoyance of making this drive for no reason. As soon as she's out of her car she notices the change in the air, that unmistakeable smell of approaching snow. It's more pronounced out here and she closes her eyes to immerse herself in it, welcoming the somewhat melancholy chill seeping into her bones. Part of her wishes she could just stay here, alone, buried under blankets in front of a roaring fire as the rolling hills themselves are buried under blankets of white. It sounds peaceful. Lonely, but still peaceful.

A slamming sound alerts her back to the house and she crosses to the front door to give it a hefty knock, hoping what she heard means Anton is, in fact, at home. After two more knocks and no movement behind the door, she can feel her defensive instincts begin to kick in. Lifting the edge of her coat, she pulls her gun from the holster at her hip as she tests the doorknob with her left hand. Surprisingly, it's unlocked.

Opening the door a small crack, she leans into it and readies both hands on her pistol.

"Anton, are you home? It's Deputy Swan."

No answer.

Slowly, she shoulders her way into the house. There's a single lamp on, illuminating a mug and book resting on the massive coffee table in the middle of the room, an old afghan blanket crumpled into one side of the leather couch and an empty bed tucked into the far corner. With only this one big room she can tell that no one is at home, but that doesn't explain the noise she heard just moments ago. Looking to her left she can see a small kitchen tucked against the far wall, with one plate, one bowl and another mug placed out to dry on a kitchen towel on the counter.

That pang of want returns again seeing the obvious solitude of this place and her mind begins to wander…

Because of that, she doesn't see the shadow moving behind the window of the back door until the doorknob turns and the hinges creak. Her gun is raised and pointed at the first glimpse of the back of a man she doesn't immediately recognize attempting to shoulder his way in.

"Freeze! Police!"

"Oh bloody hell…"

There's something familiar in that voice, but he hasn't turned, instead having followed her order to stop moving altogether.

"Put your hands up and turn around slowly."

"Uh, slight problem there. I've a handful of heavy firewood in my arms at the moment."

Firewood? What the hell? She's about to ask that very question when the man turns his head to look over his shoulder.

"Killian?"

His name comes out far breathier and incredulous than she's proud of, but seeing him again had been relegated to a few frustrating daydreams up until this very moment.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lovely to see you, too, Swan."

She's immediately frustrated. Frustrated at him, frustrated at his flirtation, frustrated at being out of the loop as to his presence here, just frustrated at feeling out of control.

His eyes lock on hers as he turns more fully into the room, arms laden with the aforementioned firewood and she doesn't stop him from crossing to deposit the logs by the fireplace.

"Do you think I can persuade you to lower your firearm?"

She does, but she takes her time with it. He just stands there watching, with his now free arms crossed in front of his half-zipped vest.

"You haven't answered my question. What are you doing here? Where's Anton?"

"Key West, or New Orleans, I'd need to check his itinerary to be sure. He won't be back until March. He hired me to keep an eye on the place and take care of the animals while he's gone."

"I thought you were leaving town?"

His lips curl up into a half smile at that and she has the sudden need to unzip her coat to relieve the flush burning up her chest. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? Deep down she knows that isn't the real reason she feels so unnerved. That connection she felt with him during that trip to George's farm has stuck with her these last few weeks, along with a tinge of anger at how temporary it at all was.

But, _here until March_ , that's feeling a whole lot less temporary.

"Aye, well, Anton sensed I was itching to stay and I took him up on his offer. If you'll pardon me for one moment, I'll just grab the rest of the firewood."

As he slips out the still open back door she finally does rip down the zipper of her coat, breathing deep as the cooler air hits her overheated skin. She needs to tell him about the roads and the storm and get on her way. That's what would be good for her. What she wants, well, she's deciding exactly what that is.

This time she sees as he comes up to the door and she rushes to open it for him, earning her another small smile of thanks. As he passes she gets a whiff of wood sap and sweat, with a hint of something spicy hidden underneath.

"So, what brings you all the way out here? There's a storm coming, you know?"

"Oh really? I had no idea."

Chuckling as he wipes his hands on his jeans, he bends down and begins to arrange logs for a fire. She watches him for a moment _or two_ before realizing she still hasn't told him why she's here.

"I was going to give Anton a message, but I guess it's for you instead. If the storm is as bad as they're forecasting, we might not get out here to clear these roads for a bit. I've got some extra water and non-perishables in my car if you aren't stocked up?"

The look he sends over his shoulder at her is soft and slightly bewildered for a moment before he redirects his focus back towards the fire.

"I appreciate the offer, Emma. I've got...well...I had someone else check in on me earlier today with enough provisions to last until the next Ice Age."

Unbidden jealousy flares for a moment before the obvious realization of who he must be referring to has her internally rolling her eyes at her own reaction.

"Granny?"

"Aye, the widow Lucas has filled that fridge over there to the brim with all the makings of a Thanksgiving feast as well as stew and three different pies. Anton has a generator out back, so power won't be an issue."

She wants to ask him why he's here, spending his Thanksgiving in this nowhere town all alone. But then it hits her. He's living out the fantasy she had been writing for herself as she stood out in front of this little house. Suddenly, _she_ feels like the intruder.

"Good, well...I'll just get out of your hair, then. If any emergencies arise, call the station and we'll try to get out to you as soon as we can."

She's already at the front door when he calls out to her.

"Emma, wait."

His half built fire has been abandoned and he's stopped just a few feet away by the couch, not moving any closer as if he's afraid if he does she might get spooked. And she is, in a way, but not because she doesn't want him to, because she thinks she does.

"I was just about to head out to the barn to give Lady Rose one last walk around the paddock before the storm hits. Would you care to join me?"

She definitely does, so that's why she should leave.

"Okay."

* * *

The sky has darkened considerably and she knows she really should get on the road, but she ignores her instincts screaming at her to run and follows him and the old horse from the barn and into the paddock instead.

"So she's a Lady now?"

Killian's hand reaches over to pat lightly on Compass Rose's neck before turning back to her with a smile that sets her pulse quickening at an alarming rate.

"She always was, love."

"Are you flirting with me or the horse?"

One thing's for certain, she's definitely flirting with him. She can't help it, bantering back and forth like this just seems to come naturally. She's so lost in thought that she doesn't even notice that Killian has walked around the horse and is now approaching her from behind. While keeping his hands moving over the chestnut mare to release stray pieces of hay, she can see the condensation of his breath drift over her shoulder as he speaks in an almost hushed whisper beside her ear.

"I can't help if my natural charm is appreciated by all species. I'll be sure to be more direct in the future so as to leave you without any doubt."

Rising to the challenge he has undoubtedly just set out before her, she looks over his shoulder to meet his slightly heavy-lidded gaze.

"Do your worst."

His head cocks slightly and he leans in close enough that their breaths dance together in the increasingly frigid air.

"Oh, love, I consider it my best."

Sudden awareness of many things happens all at once. Her own body begins to feel charged with anticipation, blossoming warmth under her arms, at the hollow of her throat and deep between her legs. Everything about him is screaming of an invitation, from the unveiled interest in his eyes to his tongue peeking out to wet his slightly parted lips. She's half a mind to take him up on the offer. The other half, the consistently guarded one, it propels her to turn around and walk a few cautious steps out of his reach.

"So, are we gonna give this lady some exercise, or what?"

She doesn't turn to face him, but still hears the change in his tone as he responds.

"Aye, let's put her through a few paces."

For the first few laps around the paddock, Emma leans up against the fence to watch Killian guide the mare with a firm, but obviously loving hand. While she knows little about this man who she has found herself completely fascinated with, she can see that taking care of Compass Rose means a great deal to him. Maybe it gives him a sense of purpose?

As his lap has him drawing near he extends his hand towards her and nods in the direction of Compass Rose.

"Can we interest you in a stroll, milady?"

His feigned formality and tiny bow has her laughing and, against her better judgement, walking towards him and wrapping her hand around his proffered elbow.

"Aren't you worried your other companion will get jealous?"

"Oh, it'll just take an extra apple or two to get back in her good graces."

A comfortable silence descends as they walk together, the only sounds the horse's hooves crunching into the already frozen grass and Killian's occasional words of encouragement. She shivers as a sharp wind rolls in and finds herself tucked just a bit closer into Killian's side. The thick flannel on his arms can't be enough to keep him warm, so she doesn't pull away. She can pretend that his comfort is the only reason.

It's only when they start to feel a light rain hit their cheeks do they agree it's time to head back to the barn. Once inside, she asks if he'll show her how to groom the horse and he agrees with a generous smile. Together they brush and comb until Compass Rose is shining like a new penny. After helping him arrange the feed and water so it won't be impacted by the impending snow, they each bestow her with an apple before leaving the barn.

It only takes her a few steps to realize she's made a very bad error in judgement. Killian's strong arms steadying her from behind catch her as the ice beneath her feet tries to send her crashing into the dirt. The light rain from earlier at some point transitioned to sleet, leaving a very treacherous path back to the farmhouse. With each slow step they take together it comes undeniably clear that she's destined to spend this snowstorm trapped with Killian Jones.

* * *

"Let me top that off for you, love."

Leaning back, she gives him room to pour more scalding water into her mug, sending a fresh waft of cinnamon and spice under her thawing nose. Her eyes track him as he returns the kettle to the stove and he opens a cabinet to retrieve something from the middle shelf, the strong lines of his shoulders competing with his firm backside for her undivided attention. When he turns, she can see his hand holds a silver flask. He unscrews the top and adds a generous pour to his own mug on the counter before turning towards her with the flask outstretched.

"Since neither of us are going anywhere for a while, I figure why not?"

This situation is already fraught with landmines everywhere she turns and adding alcohol to the mix is probably the last thing she should do. But she's been living her life with so many self constructed rules for long enough and she just wants to let go, if just for a little while.

" _Why not's_ a good enough reason for me."

She takes a quick sip of the too hot tea to give room for whatever alcohol he's about to add in and almost coughs as it burns its way into her chest. He chuckles and she blushes and their fingers brush as he tips the golden liquid into her mug.

"Everything is improved with a drop or three of rum."

"That's sounds like the motto of a pirate, not a farmhand."

"I've not always been a farmhand, love."

"Oh? What were you before?"

He pulls out the chair across from her and sits, facing her with his mug poised against his lips and his eyes focused on the distressed wood between them.

"That's a rather long story."

"Lucky for you, I've got nowhere to be."

She knows she's setting herself up for having to reciprocate when he inevitably asks to learn something about her, but she's too curious and has had a lifetime of learning how to evade.

"Aye, rather lucky indeed."

His foot slides against hers beneath the table and she narrows her eyes at his "this is me being direct" flirtatious smile. He's had a lifetime to learn how to evade as well, it seems.

"Right. Well, I should text David with an update as to my situation."

Rising with her mug, she fishes her phone from her coat hanging by the back door and moves to sit on the arm of the couch. As she decides just how much information she wants to convey she can hear Killian opening and closing the refrigerator and humming something she can't quite make out. Opting for a simple " _Ice came in faster than expected and I'll be spending the storm at Anton's cabin, safe and sound_ " text, she sits and waits for the inevitable quick and worried response.

She's not proven wrong. She's able to answer " _yes, DAD!_ " to his rapid succession of " _Plenty of food and water? Electricity? Call me if you need anything_!" texts that come beeping in. By the time she's sliding her phone into her back pocket she's grinning and feeling a little warmth at his overprotective antics.

"You alright with some of Granny's beef stew for supper?"

Still slightly caught up in her own thoughts, she redirects her attention back to Killian to find him poised by the stove just waiting to turn on the burner.

"Oh, sure, that sounds good."

Feeling somewhat unsure as to what to do with herself, she opts for leaning back into the worn leather sofa to quietly sip the rest of her tea. Despite the small amount, the rum Killian added is strong and she can already feel its effects. Her eyes fall on the still abandoned fire from earlier and she sees an opportunity to make herself useful. Chugging the last of her tea, she sets aside the mug and moves to a crouch in front of the fireplace to finish arranging the logs. It's been a while since she's had to do this, but after not too long she's happily reclining back against the coffee table with a roaring fire warming her toes through her thick woolen socks.

"Brilliant job, love. I've always been a bit shoddy at that."

From the carry of his voice she can tell he's still by the stove, so she just gives him a thumbs up over her shoulder in reply, content to just exist in this moment without adding her own commentary. His humming resumes and she closes her eyes, letting the warmth of the fire soothe away the anxiety at being trapped here with a man she barely knows.

The knowledge of her gun stashed in the inside pocket of her coat is helping as well.

* * *

Two bowls of stew and a full tumbler of rum later, she's feeling full and slightly tipsy as she stretches out on her side of the couch. Her toes brush against Killian's thigh beneath the fleece blanket and she blushes before pulling her feet back across the cushion. She can feel his eyes on her as she stares into the fire, but she doesn't turn, instead choosing to reach again for the bottle of rum (they moved past the capabilities of the flask at dinner) to refill her glass.

Call it liquid courage, but she's suddenly thought of a way to maybe fast forward through both of their long stories at the same time.

"I have an idea."

"Do tell?"

Turning towards him with the bottle outstretched, he holds his glass towards her and she fills it just a little too full. It sloshes a bit on his hand and she finds herself transfixed as he brings the glass to his mouth so he can lick the rum from his skin with his tongue.

"Uh...how about we play a drinking game?"

"What did you have in mind, love?"

"We'll take turns revealing something about ourselves. If the other person has experienced something similar, they have to drink. If not, the person who shared does."

"Ah, a clever variation on 'Never have I ever'?"

"Exactly."

He's quiet for a moment as he contemplates her and her suggestion and she worries that he will shut down and leave her in the dark. It's something she would do, normally…

"Shall I go first?"

Relief escapes her on a long breath and as she nods in reply she pulls in her feet so she can sit with her legs crossed facing him on the couch. He does the same, or as close as he can manage with one of his legs still braced on the floor beside him.

"Let's see… Okay, might as well just dive right in and rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak. Before becoming a farmhand, I regrettably spent some of my earlier years behind bars."

His eyes are focused down at his glass as if he's ashamed to admit this to her, but she'd already had an inkling that this might be a part of his past. Clearing her throat, she waits until she has his attention before lifting her glass to her lips. His eyes widen as she takes a long sip and she racks up one point for being able to surprise him.

"Really, Swan?"

"Yeah, I wasn't always on this side of the law. Circumstances lead to bad decisions...and well, I guess you know how that goes."

"Aye. It seems as though we both were able to turn over a new leaf and have been on a better path for a while now."

Warmth that she knows isn't due to the alcohol or the fire licks up her spine and she does her best to maintain eye contact as he seems to be looking straight into her soul.

"It certainly looks that way to me."

His head ducks slightly as he tries to hide a ridiculously adorable, bashful smile and she knows in this moment that she's irrevocably doomed.

"Okay, my turn." She almost takes another sip of her rum to give her strength, but quickly remembers the game and forges ahead. "I'm not really a fan of Thanksgiving. It's a holiday focused on family and I've never...I don't have one."

"I had a feeling…"

His response isn't a surprise. She'd thought they had a moment on that first night they met, but she wasn't sure if she was reading more into what was actually there. As he takes another swig of his rum she knows she'd read it correctly. Without missing a beat, he holds his now half full tumbler towards her as if he's about to give a toast.

"Mine are all long dead."

Another knot of tension releases at his nonchalance and she scoots a bit towards him to bring her tumbler up next to his.

"Orphan."

A soft clink of glass sounds in the quiet room, followed by each of them taking another drink.

"I'm good with not digging in any deeper into those wounds right now if you are?"

His laugh at that is deep and full and she leans into the back of the couch where she is instead of moving back into her corner.

"Definitely, Swan. Let's lighten things up a bit, shall we? Let's see...back in my youth I spent most of my time out on the water. Even spent a few years in the Royal Navy before realizing that I wasn't much for taking orders."

Visions of how good he must have looked in a sailor's uniform flash before her alcohol fogged eyes and she almost forgets he's waiting for her to play the game.

"Oh, nope, drink up. I've never stepped foot on a boat in my life."

"Well that is just a travesty that hopefully, when warmer weather returns, you will allow me to rectify."

She notices how he doesn't really form that as a question and she uses that as an excuse to not respond. His words sound like promises and she's used to those being broken. Staying in the here and now is safer. If there's a flicker of hope starting to burn, it's still small enough for her to ignore as it tries to shine through the cracks.

Pointing to his drink, he shakes his head slightly before taking his owed sip and she tries to think of something to share that will keep the smile on his face. He really does have the most adorable dimples.

"I'm one of Storybrooke's only two law enforcers and I drive around town every day in a stolen car."

He lifts his arm and drapes it across the back of the couch before leaning towards her with a look she reads as equally proud and amused. She's transfixed by his eyes and barely registers his fingertips curling around the ends of her hair until she feels a gentle tug at the base of her scalp.

"That is quite scandalous, love. Does anyone else know?"

"Nope, just you, so you better keep that mouth shut."

Subtlety is under a sea of rum at this point as her eyes fall to his lips, especially when he draws the lower one between his teeth and she has to remind herself to breathe. She's trying to think of something to say when she feels a bit of pressure at the bottom of her glass and realizes he's put his own drink down on the coffee table and has placed two fingers against hers. When did he get this close?

"I've stolen my fair share, but never a vehicle. Time for a drink."

As she lifts her glass to her mouth, his hand falls to her knee and she keeps her eyes locked to his as the burn of the rum hits the back of her throat. His long fingers wrap lightly beneath her knee and she doesn't pull away as anticipation swirls to life deep in her belly. She's more than ready for what comes next, truly enjoying this dance and how easily they seem to be able to share the lead.

"My turn."

The gravelly drop of his voice has her pressing her knee down into his hand and she can feel his fingers flex upwards in response. God, she wants to feel those hands elsewhere, harder and with purpose.

"Make it a good one, I've only got one sip left."

She flinches slightly as his fingers in her hair slide against the side of her scalp to hold lightly at the base of her neck, but she keeps her gaze steady on his mouth as it draws closer and closer.

"I've been wanting to know how you kiss since the moment we met."

Reaching forward with her free hand, she places her palm against his collarbone to hold him back as she tips her tumbler enough to drain her glass. She doesn't pay much attention to what happens to it after that as her fingers curl around his shirt and she drags him and his mouth where she needs him to be. It's a lot all at once, with him groaning against her lips and her scrambling for a better angle, but soon they start to work together. It takes a less than gentle tug of his hand beneath her knee to get her moving and soon she's straddling his lap and his hands are cupping her cheeks as they take turns sucking the rum from each other's tongues.

He tastes so good and his bottom lip is so full and god, she just wants to feel it everywhere. Gripping his hair, she sucks said lip between her teeth and his hips buck up beneath her in response. As she angles his head to slip her tongue back into his mouth his hands begin to move, the somewhat drunken groping of her backside at first leading to a palm hot beneath her sweater along her spine and his other hand urging her hips to slide further forward into his lap. She's hot all over and can feel her body priming for what he's offering, what she knows she wants but is still slightly unsure if she should take. But then she feels how hard he is beneath her and swears she hears him moan her name into her mouth and taking is suddenly the only option she can see.

Dragging her hands from his hair, she struggles to rip her sweater over her head, ending up slightly stuck until his body rumbles with laughter beneath her and his hands join in to set her free. They share a tipsy smile full of promise and heat as her hands fall to his shoulders and she rolls her hips down to just brush against his erection beneath his jeans. His eyebrow lifts at her teasing, but his inaction is short-lived as his head dips and his hands clamp around her waist to hold her still. She swears she almost comes as his bottom lip brushes over the thin material covering her nipple before drawing the sensitive peak into his mouth. The flat of his tongue is driving her crazy as the cotton of her bra soaks through from the wet heat, but fuck, she needs more. Reaching behind her, she unhooks her bra herself and wrenches it off, smacking him in the face with the clasp in her urgency to remove it. He doesn't seem to mind as he moves his torture to her other breast, groaning into her skin as her hands urge him on with a tight grip at the back of his head.

As if on cue, a prickling of something starts to override the pleasure, a fear of where this is headed, of knowing that he's sticking around and this can't just be a quick fuck with someone she's never going to see again. She can feel herself begin to panic. It's not until his head lifts from her breast and he moves a hand to her cheek does she realize she's gone completely still.

"Emma, what is it, are you alright?"

Knowing her chest must be completely flushed with embarrassment, she tries to cover herself with her arms as she closes her eyes to try to will this moment away.

"I'm fine. I just need a moment."

With her eyes still closed, she tries to take a few deep breaths. His thumb moves slightly against her cheek for a moment before falling away and she knows she's just messed everything up. She should move, get the hell off his lap, but she's paralyzed with uncertainty. When she finally gets the courage to open her eyes again, she sees him working the last button at the bottom of his shirt free before shrugging it from his arms. With warmth and unexpected understanding in his eyes, he holds the shirt up to her before reaching around her to drape it over her shoulders. Neither of them say a word as she works her arms into the warm flannel or even when his hands slowly secure enough buttons so the shirt will cover her breasts.

She's overcome with affection and relief and all she can do is press herself forward to settle against him into the hug she somehow knew he was silently offering. His skin is hot and she feels the rapid heartbeat beneath her cheek and it would be so easy to just turn her head and press her lips against his neck. Part of her still wants to. The other part, the side of her not shadowed with rum and brittle with fear and insecurity, that part lets him hold her with his strong hands around her back. She can feel him still hard and willing beneath her, but there is no urging for anything more in the soft press of his fingers against her spine or the gentle pressure of his chin as it rests against the top of her head. They stay like this for a while, long enough for her to feel the chill of the dying fire and more importantly, long enough for her to calm herself down.

"Thank you, for...being patient with me."

"I'll wait as long as you need, Emma. I'm sorry if I was moving too fast…"

Needing him to understand, she does finally shift to press her lips lightly against his throat before lifting her head to find his mouth. His hands don't move from her back, so she slides her tongue between his lips and lets him know just how much she still wants him with her kiss. They both have to take a few quick gulps of air by the time she pulls away and she lets herself get lost in the want-darkened blue of his eyes as she tries to come up with a coherent thought.

"Sorry, I just really like kissing you."

"First, you should never apologize for doing so and second, feel free to do it again whenever you like."

That earns him another quick peck. As she scoots back to settle on his knees, she contemplates what she wants as he just stares at her with open affection and an unexpected abundance of patience.

"We're not going to have sex tonight."

"Aye, I gathered that to be the case."

"But, we're snowed in and there's a big bed and it would be a waste if we didn't...share it. And maybe we can still fool around a little, if that's something you might be up…"

Up is the last word she gets out and the direction she suddenly finds her body being lifted. His head knocks her chin upwards and his lips find the soft skin beneath her ear as she is carried across the room to the edge of Anton's massive bed. As his mouth slides across her cheek and back to her lips she fumbles with the button of her jeans, but has to break the kiss so she can lean down and free the tight denim from her legs. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him begin to do the same, but then he stops. Lifting her head to meet his eyes, she nods, knowing he was just waiting for her permission to continue. Why is he like this? Where did he come from?

They wind up tangled in the center of the bed, with him in just his boxer briefs and her in her panties and his shirt. Knowing the set limitations makes it easier for her to let go and just enjoy the feel of him pressing her down into the mattress, the weight of his chest against her breasts and the coarse hair along his legs as she wraps her ankle around his knee. His erection is thick and straining beneath the cotton separating them and she rolls her hips up in an attempt to give them both some relief. She expects something primal to follow, a joint chase for release made up of drunken grinding and friction. Instead, he slows things down, aligning his cock with her clit and pressing down, but not moving any further as he finds her mouth again to kiss her senseless.

It's hot and sweet and she wasn't lying about how much she enjoys kissing him, but she's beyond ready and desperate to get off. When her hands reach down to grab his ass and drag him down he finally gets with the program and thrusts against her until she's gasping for more. Every pass of the side of his cock down and up over her clit has her scrambling and soon her legs are clamped around his waist and her hands are holding his head against her collarbone to keep him from stopping. His breath his hot and wet against her as he pants and groans, his tongue peeking out to occasionally lick along her skin between whispers of lustful encouragement as they move and move and move.

She comes first and her legs collapse back on the bed, too drunk on him and her orgasm to realize he hasn't yet finished. As groaned pleas of her name break through her euphoria she blinks back into the moment, and soon has him wrestled over and onto his back where she can finish him off as she likes. His eyes are half closed, but his hands are everywhere, urging her to straddle him, but she holds back. Instead, she kisses the protest from his lips and stretches out with one leg draped over his knee. Slowly, she rakes her fingernails through the soft hair along his chest, swirling briefly around his bellybutton before reaching beneath his boxer briefs to encircle his swollen cock. A few colorful curses fall from his lips as she pulls it free and begins to stroke, but soon his hand is in her hair and he's dragging her back down so he can lick into the corners of her mouth. It doesn't take long for his head to fall back into the pillow and his hips to arch up off the bed as he comes, releasing into her hand and spilling out onto his distractingly toned abs. His expression is raw and somewhat incredulous as she just smiles down at him with her fingers stilled wrapped around his slowly softening cock.

"Fuck, Emma, you're incredible."

With him looking at her like this, she needs to reset her own boundaries before she finds herself crawling onto his lap and fucking him until the sun comes up. God, just the thought of that has her throbbing. Forcing a breath from her lungs, she gives his hip a gentle pinch before rolling over and off the side of the mattress.

"You're a mess. Let me get something to clean you up."

The wood floor is freezing beneath her feet, so she practically runs the few steps to the bathroom. Once inside, she closes the door and turns on the water, splashing a bit of it on her face once it's gotten warm. She refuses to stay in here long enough to let herself freak out. When she sprints back to the bed with a wet washcloth Killian is leaning back against the headboard, his face not really masking his concern. She tries to alleviate some of it as she cleans his abdomen, making sure to meet his eyes before lowering her lips to gently toy at his nipple with her tongue. He groans in appreciation and she pulls back, not wanting to get things started again, if only half-heartedly. As he takes the cloth from her to deposit it on the nightstand, she crawls over his legs to pull back the heavy curtains of the window beside the bed.

Fat snowflakes are falling over an already thick blanket, covering everything as far as she can see in the moonlight. It's absolutely stunning and if she didn't have an almost naked man beside her, she'd be pulling on her clothes to go and catch some snow on her tongue. But she does. Strong arms and a broad chest wrap around her from behind and she lets herself lean back and together they watch the storm cocoon them further into this unexpected evening.

* * *

When she wakes in the morning it's to a blinding light as the sun reflects off the snow, illuminating everything, including the man still deep in sleep beside her. His dark hair is in disarray atop his pillow and his hand is curled around her elbow as if he'd woken in the night and just wanted to anchor himself to her before falling back asleep.

That thought terrifies her. She's been so used to never being wanted that the opposite is something she has no defenses for. Last night was amazing, but it was about sex, or attraction and yeah, an obvious connection. This feels like something else. She needs to get the hell out here before he wakes up and she finds herself in a situation she can no longer control.

Moving slowly as not to wake him, she gets out of bed and searches on the floor for her phone in the pocket of her discarded jeans. With trembling fingers, she types out a text to David before she can stop herself or take a moment to think this through.

 _Need you to get the plow and pick me up from Anton's. As soon as possible._


	3. Christmas

Up until this moment, he thought that it wasn't actually possible to be frozen with indecision, that it was just a plot device authors used to create a conflicting moment for their character. But with the bag from Granny's clutched in his hand growing heavier by each passing second, he can't actually seem to make his feet move out the door. One foot seems to want to take the forward step and the other, the other must be tethered to that last chink of self preservation protecting his battered heart.

From the open blinds of the windowed door he can see her, her long legs stretched taut from her perch at the edge of her open back seat as she tries to help the teenager on the other side tie a small christmas tree atop her roof. He can tell she's slightly frustrated, both by the petrified look on the boy's face and the almost violent tugging down of her beanie over her ears he's witnessed at least five times. Going outside to offer his assistance would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

But he's frozen. And it's all her fault.

He can count the times he's seen her since that painfully awkward morning a month ago on two fingers. Two. And that's two more fingers than he needs to count the number of times he's heard from her since giving her his number. Yeah, that's zero. Zero fingers. Zero calls. Zero texts. She froze _him_ out first.

After that first morning, he'd spent the entire day wondering where he'd gone wrong. What he had done to cause her to run, or more accurately, plow herself away from him with panic unsuccessfully hiding behind flimsy excuses. When he'd run into her a few days later at the hardware store she acted as if nothing had happened, avoiding the elephant in the room to the point of making small talk about what kind of salt is best for icing the sidewalk, as if he gave a bloody god damn about that. He left that encounter less confused and more annoyed, annoyed at himself for spending so much time thinking about the connection he'd felt between them and what it could possibly mean.

He'd pretty much given up all hope of anything coming out of that lost evening until a chance encounter a week later, when he'd grown tired of his solitude at the cabin and decided to supper at Granny's. Two bites into his lasagna and he'd looked up to see Emma entering the diner, her eyes scanning the open bar stools to the right before noticing him at the other end. He'd been too surprised to withhold his reaction and felt his lips curling into a friendly smile before he could look away. In an unexpected turn of events, she'd smiled back. What followed was a good hour of flirting. Well, dinner and conversation, but there was definitely flirting, and not just on his side of things. So, he'd felt rather confident when he'd asked for her number before she had to get back to work. She'd refused, which stung, but had asked for his instead. He knew that was a classic blow off, but she'd seemed genuinely happy to spend time with him and, blast it, he bloody well got his hopes up.

Hopes that were dashed by day 10 of radio silence. Now on day 19, he just isn't sure of how he's expected to interact with her. Hence...his current frozen indecision.

But then he sees her hands reach for her beanie again and the tug is so hard he expects to see her head come straight out of the top of the gray wool. Her forehead comes to rest against her roof as her balled fists clench on either side her thighs and he just can't stand there like a damn fool for another minute. She needs help.

Emma's head lifts up and turns at the sound of the bell jingling atop the door as he steps outside, bringing them face to face for the first time in almost three weeks. While he's stopped thinking he is any sort of expert on how to read this woman, he's pretty sure the expression he sees in this moment is akin to disappointment. As he makes his way down the path towards the curb he tries to keep his true feelings at that reaction hidden behind a well constructed, overtly friendly mask.

"Looks like you could use a hand, love."

Her reply seems to get caught in her throat at first, but after a slight cough and a redirect of her gaze back to her roof, she finally speaks.

"I can't seem to get this damn knot to hold."

"Aye, well, that's something I just happen to be rather skilled at if you would allow?"

Looking over the top of the car, he makes eye contact with the teenager still waiting on the other side and gives him a quick smile and a nod, silently letting him know that he's off the hook. The boy is gone before the mist from the relieved breath he expels has time to evaporate.

Emma grips the roof with her hands to steady herself as she hops back to the ground and he waits to see if she will turn around and take his offer. A small smile greets him when she does and just like that, he can feel his chest lighten as hope once again begins to rise.

"I'd appreciate it. Can I hold that for you?"

He'd all but forgotten the bag of food in his hand and he nods before passing it over to her outstretched hands.

"Wow, what did she load you up with this time? This is heavy!"

"I'm not entirely sure. She said it was her customary Christmas meal and I wasn't to walk out that door without taking it."

Quickly turning on his heel to deal with the tree, he hopes she didn't catch the reddening of his cheeks at the sound of her amused laugh. It's a bit mortifying to be so affected by a person, especially one who leaves him so unsure. The rope before him is thin, but sufficient, the burn of the frayed nylon against his fingers both familiar and a distant memory. She's done a fair job of wrapping it around her roof and over the tree and it just takes a few brief moments for him to tie off the end in a secure knot. From this vantage point he can see that the tree is rather small and somewhat barren and he can't help the feeling of melancholy at the thought of her putting it up alone in her apartment. But how is he to know if that's her plan? He can't know, so he's better off not spinning tales in his head.

Unable to find an excuse to drag this interaction on any longer now that he's so quickly tied the knot, he reluctantly turns back around with a friendly smile.

"All set. You should be able to just give the end there a good tug and the knot should pull free."

Her "thanks" is said as if she has more to say, but after a somewhat uncomfortable silence she seems to change her mind.

"Here you go."

His bare fingers brush her gloved ones as she passes his bag of food back over and more than anything he just wants to grab on, hold her there and ask her why she keeps running away. But he doesn't. Instead, he just lets her close the open back door of her bug and slide into the seat of the front so she can be on her way. She doesn't owe him any explanations, no matter how desperately he wants to hear them.

When she looks up at him from her seat she looks uncertain, almost as if she isn't quite sure of where she's planning to go. All he knows is, that's her decision to make and he needs to just let her make it.

Stepping forward, he clasps his free hand atop her driver's side door and gives her a genuine smile, full of the honest good wishes he has for her and his hope for nothing but her happiness.

"Merry Christmas, Emma."

When her chin lifts and he can see her own smile in her eyes as well as on her lips, he's pretty sure she heard everything he was trying to say.

"Merry Christmas, Killian."

With that, he gently pushes her door closed and he gives her a wave before walking behind her car so he can cross the street. As he hears her bug roar to life and pull away from the curb, he may falter in his step, but he stops himself from looking back.

Bypassing the market, he opens the door to the liquor store and heads straight for the rum. If he's going to get through the next few days all on his own, he's going to need to restock.

* * *

There hasn't been fresh snow for about a week, but with the temperatures staying steadily below freezing his drive back to the farm is cast all around in brilliant white. He can't deny it's beauty, as if the world around him has turned into a winter painting that almost doesn't feel quite real. As his truck rumbles home, he catalogs all of the scene he's come to love, from the evergreens dotting the edges of the hills, the snow covered fence edging the paddock and the dark and weathered log cabin with….

...with a beat-up yellow bug in the driveway with a Christmas tree tied to the roof.

His foot slams on the brake a good hundred yards from the driveway as shudders of confused exhilaration run up his body from the tips of his toes to the top of his scalp. _She's here_. Running back over their last interaction again in his mind he tries to pinpoint something he missed, a clue that should have alerted him to this moment, but he comes up short. And then he realizes he's just idling outside the house and worries that might read as if he's upset about finding her here. So, he pulls his truck up beside her and looks over to greet her with a smile.

Except, she's not in the car.

As he exits his truck to head towards the house he sees footsteps in the snow leading from her car around the back of the house. After dropping his food and rum on the porch he follows the path all the way to where it leads into the barn, where Emma has her back to him as her hand moves up and down along Lady Rose's long neck.

"Emma?"

She doesn't startle at the sound of his voice and simply looks over her shoulder at him with a shy, unsure smile.

"Hey."

"Hello, love."

Her attention redirects back to the horse and he takes a few tentative steps closer, afraid somehow that he might spook her and make her regret whatever it is that brought her here.

"She seems to be happy here."

'Aye, she's a strong one, adaptable."

"It's about trust, right? Her trusting that you will take care of her, that you'll treat her better than how she was...you know, before?"

Lady Rose lets out a loud breath from her nose as he gets closer, her way of saying hello, or at least that's what he likes to believe. Emma still hasn't turned around, so he crosses around her she he can face her from the other side of Lady Rose's head. He thinks he knows what she's trying to say, in a way that is safe, if a bit detached.

"Trust is a big part of it, Swan. It's also observation. She sees that I have no intention of hurting her, watches how I approach and feels the kindness in my touch. I sometimes feel as though horses are more in tune with our true intentions than we are with each other most of the time."

"We?"

The question in her voice draws his attention back to her face and he can see that she's looking at him now.

"We as in people, in general…"

And _you and me_ , but he leaves that unsaid.

"Do you think she'd like some exercise?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

The nervous laugh he hears from Emma hits him square in the chest with the force of his realization of just how gone for this woman he actually is. She has the power to change the course of his life, if only she would let him.

"Okay…"

His eyes pop wide for a moment before he realizes she isn't answering the silent plea only he can hear in his head. She's talking about the damn horse.

"Rose, you want to join us for a walk?"

Emma stumbles a bit backwards as the horse leans into her hand in enthusiastic response.

"I guess that's a yes, love."

Emma just smiles and steps back a few steps to watch as he fits Lady Rose with her bridle and one long rein. When he's done, he lifts the worn leather towards Emma, but she just shakes her head.

"Maybe next time. I'm still earning her trust."

She says that with her eyes locked on his and bloody hell, this woman, she's driving him to the edge of his control. He wants nothing more than to sidestep this subtext and drag her into his arms, but he's clinging to his patience. By a very thin thread…

Emma remains quiet, but close to his side as they lead Lady Rose through the snow and into the paddock, turning her face towards his every few steps as if she's reassuring him, or perhaps herself that she's still here. As their second lap finds them meeting their own footsteps in the snow he knows he's going to have to be the one to break the silence. And he's wondering if perhaps that's exactly what she's been asking him to do? She took the first step coming here, so...he'll attempt to take the next.

"So Swan, as happy as I am to have your company, I can't help but wonder what brought you here?"

"I think you know."

Until this very moment he didn't realize it was possible to be both frustrated and elated in equal measure, but that's exactly how that answer is making him feel.

"There are things that I hope, but not things I know. Indulge me, if you will?"

Emma stops walking beside him and he lets go of Lady Rose's rein, giving her the freedom to continue so Emma can have his full attention. The horse doesn't move and he notices Emma's hand on her flank, just pressing against the muscle there as if the animal is acting as her anchor.

"I want to stop running."

She has spoken those words in a quiet whisper, so quiet he thinks that maybe she was saying the words aloud for the first time in her life. When her eyes lift to his he sees naked vulnerability there and he takes a step closer, unsure if she will be able to find her voice to say more. Her hand lifts to stop him, and he realizes she isn't done.

"I'm sorry I didn't call. I wanted to. Almost did a few times. Wrote a handful of texts I never sent, too. Instead, I put you in a box with everyone else who has ended up letting me down, because I was convinced if I gave you time you eventually would."

"I don't intend to let you down, Emma."

The urge to hold her is so strong now that the muscles in his thighs begin to tingle at the effort he is exerting to hold himself back.

"I know. I'm sorry. I decided I was going to call you today and wish you a Merry Christmas, but then I saw that damn tree. It was the last one and it was so ugly and alone and I got this crazy idea to just bring it out here and then I saw you and I almost chickened out and…"

Whatever was about to ramble out of her mouth next will forever remain a mystery as his feet move and his hands lift to cup her cheeks and he presses his smile against her lips. She's a bit stunned at first, but then her hands are gripping the lapels of his coat and her mouth becomes an equal participant in their kiss. Feeling her close again is a dizzying rush, especially when her hands snake inside his coat to wrap around his back so her fingers can cling to his sweater between his shoulderblades. Needing a moment to breathe, he tilts her head up as he pulls his lips back, bringing their cold noses and foreheads together so as to not fully break contact. As her eyes flutter open and her cheeks catch the edges of her smile, he rubs lightly at the cleft of her chin with his thumb.

"You brought me a tree?"

The breaths between them create a misty cloud, but he can still see the hopeful look in her eyes when she responds.

"I brought _us_ a tree."

He kisses her again at that, afraid that if he doesn't his mouth will form words he knows she isn't ready to hear.

* * *

It's only after they've gotten the tree upright in the stand the kid at the tree lot gave her for free does he think to ask if she brought anything with her to decorate the sad little thing. Her nose scrunches up adorably as she shrugs and places her hands on her hips.

"Didn't think that far, so nope."

"Hmm...I wonder if Anton...oh wait! I'll be right back."

It's bloody freezing as he steps out the back door in only his flannel, but the shed is just a few feet away and he's hopeful he easily can find what he's looking for. He'd helped Anton pack up at the end of the season and remembers the general store they had set up on the farm had sold christmas ornaments in the shape of horses and little barns. It takes him a few tries, but he finally has the box he needs as well as a random strand of orange lights from Halloween, that he decides, while not a Christmas color will just have to suffice.

The childlike delight on Emma's face as she sees what he brings back in is beyond worth the feeling of frostbite in his extremities. The specific one between his legs has shrunk to the size of a baby carrot and he's thankful she goes straight for the box instead of giving him a kiss. He needs to warm up again before any purposeful groping, if that's even on the schedule for this evening. Their last encounter in this cabin led to more than one late night fantasy of how things might progress, but he knows the speed of what happens next is up to her. He's just happy to be back on the ride.

After finding a holiday Pandora station on her phone, Emma sets out to decorate the tree, giving him direction on the best placement of the lights and laughing at the fact that they have five of the same three ornaments - a white horse, brown horse and a red barn. When it's done, it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen and they spend a few minutes doubled over in laughter until he pulls her into a hug. She settles comfortably against his chest as his arms wrap around her waist and they just sway in the glow of the bright orange lights.

"I love it, Swan."

"I do, too."

Of course, he means more than the tree. He wonders if she does too as her hand reaches up towards his face to direct him to meet her upturned lips, leading them in a kiss that eventually has them stumbling backwards onto the couch. There's no laughter as their legs tangle and his arms catch his weight, just a freight train of need barrelling fast as she pulls him down above her and he settles between her open thighs. Her hands slide up beneath his shirt as he pushes his tongue between her lips, the scratch of her fingernails along his back pulling a groan from deep in his throat. She's so warm and active beneath him, lifting her hips as her hands move down to his ass to push him down to meet her.

The urgency of her desire is almost enough to make him come right then and there like a lad in short pants. But there's still a barely lucid part of his brain that needs to make sure that she's ready, that this won't end up being something she regrets and has her running for the hills - quite literally considering their current surroundings. Gripping her hip at the waistband of her jeans, he slides his body down until his erection is aligned with her center, causing her head to fall back into the deep cushion of the couch. With her mouth free of his, he forces the words he needs to say from his kiss swollen lips.

"Are you sure? We can wait."

Her eyes open and her hands flex against his back and he tries to take a few calming breaths in preparation of the cooling off he senses is ahead.

"I've been thinking about doing this every damn day of this past month, so yeah...I'm pretty damn sure."

He may be a gentleman, but resisting that kind of determination is leagues beyond his capability.

With a flash of a smile, he's back on his mark. Taking advantage of her throat so near his mouth, he slides his lips along her skin, nipping lightly with his teeth as his hand at her waist moves upwards to gently cup her breast over her sweater. Her back arches up into his touch and he scrambles to get his hand beneath the fabric so he can give her the contact they are both craving. Shoving the cup of her bra up, he finally fills his palm with the warm fullness of her breast.

"Fuck, you're perfect…"

Before she can disagree, he rolls his thumb across her nipple and watches as her mouth falls open and her breath begins to draw short. He simply _has_ to kiss her again, but he needs to feel her skin even more and finds himself leaning away so he can pull himself up. Her hands grip his sides reflexively, so he covers one with his own and curls her fingers around the hem of his shirt. He sees the moment she catches on and closes his eyes again as she rather aggressively yanks his shirt over his head. One of the buttons flies and hits the coffee table, but he's too busy helping her out of her sweater to give a damn.

His lips find her already freed breast as she struggles with the bra clasp beneath her back, her muffled curses of annoyance in direct contrast to her legs coming up and around to anchor him tight against her body. The drag of her nipple against his tongue has his cock aching in his jeans and he both wants to worship her forever and sink inside her and fall apart all at once. She makes the decision for them both as her hands finally free themselves and weave into his hair, guiding his head and mouth to her other breast in need of attention.

The chuckle he releases against her skin earns him a pinch to the ear and he gives her nipple a nibble in retaliation. The moan that action elicits has him doubling down on his efforts, torturing her with his tongue as he moves his mouth between her breasts and down towards her belly. It's not an easy move to navigate on the couch, but her legs fall open to release him and soon he's on his knees beside her on the floor with his hand at the button of her jeans. Running his lips along the top of her waistband, he lowers the zipper far enough so he can slide his hand inside over her panties.

"Killian…"

Raising his head he sees Emma looking down at him with hooded eyes, her hair at her temples slightly matted from sweat and the rush of desire pinking her cheeks. She's a bloody vision. Leaning back towards her mouth, he captures her lips just as his fingers pull the fabric aside so he can slide them into the slick wetness between her thighs. Her moan vibrates against his tongue as he finds her clit, her responsiveness to his touch like a drug he knows he'll never be able to shake. Needing more, he releases her mouth and leans back on his knees, gripping the jeans at her hips until together they've worked the tight denim off her legs and onto the floor. He doesn't give her even a moment to prepare before his his hands are lifting her legs over his shoulders and he sucking her clit between his lips.

The sweet tang of her hits his tongue and he scrambles to press his erection into the side of the couch, attempting to hold his own pleasure at bay. She's all lithe movements and breathy curses, her long legs pressing down on his back as her hips lift in time with his mouth. When her hand grips hard at his hair, he looks up to find her staring down at him between her legs and god, he can't help but imagine their positions being reversed. With his eyes still hot on hers he gives her clit a more forceful suck as he grips hard at her hips, holding her down so she can't control the pressure.

"Oh fuck, don't stop, _don't._.."

Determined to drag out her orgasm, he slides a finger inside, massaging as her walls clench, wishing it was happening around his cock. He's so lost in the imagings of that very thing that she has to give his hair a tug to get him to move his mouth away from her oversensitive sex.

"Jesus, are you always such an overachiever?"

"I don't see the point in doing things if one isn't going to be thorough."

He can't seem to pry his eyes from her abdomen rising and falling with her still heavy breaths, until he feels her thumb brush over his bottom lip. Lifting his eyes to hers he watches as she smiles and crooks a finger at him in invitation. Gingerly, he lifts her legs from his shoulders, giving a moment to rub his mouth and scruff along the inside of her thigh. She laughs and hauls him up by the armpits, not seeming to care that she can taste herself as she slides her tongue into his mouth. Together they work between them to unbutton his jeans and work them open, his hands and hers both reaching for his cock at the same time.

Dropping to his forearms on either side of her he lifts his hips, giving her room to work her warm hands over his rigid, sensitive flesh until he's panting into the heat of her neck.

"Emma, _Emma_...if you keep that... _fuck_ …"

"Tell me you have a condom."

Her hands haven't stopped moving and he's on the verge of coming right here and now.

"Won't need one if you don't stop…"

The cry he emits as her hands fall from his cock should be embarrassing, but the thought of finishing deep inside her is the more pressing thing on his mind. Shifting back onto his knees, he maneuvers one foot to the floor and urges her to stand with him until they are pressed chest to chest at the foot of the couch. With one hand behind her neck, he leans in to press a hard, urgent kiss to her lips, but pulls back before she can get a hold anywhere on his body.

"When I come back, I hope to see you on the bed."

He doesn't wait to see her response. In the bathroom he almost stabs himself with his straight razor looking for the pack of condoms at the bottom of his kit, but finally emerges successfully after dropping his jeans and boxer briefs on the bathroom floor. The foil packets crumple in his fist as he sees Emma laid out on the bed, all pale skin and perfection against the dark navy blue quilt. He wants to map her body with kisses, trace every freckle and birthmark with the tip of his tongue.

But, when he joins her on the bed, it becomes clear that Emma's wants have taken precedence. Without ceremony, he finds himself on his back with her strong thighs anchoring him down into the mattress. She has no idea how maddening it is to feel her still slick center pressed against his belly, just above where he's so desperately in need.

"Condom, please."

With dazed affection, he presses the pack into her palm and she gives him a knowing look before tearing one free and dropping the other two beside them on the bed. With a quick snag of her tooth, she has the foil open and he closes his eyes to try to gain some control over his own body. Because of that, he's not prepared to feel her lips as they close over his nipple.

"Bloody hell!"

He searches blindly until he can find one of her hands, quickly intertwining their fingers as her mouth moves further down his chest. As her teeth nip at the skin along his hip he cries out and lets her hand free, afraid he might crush her fingers if the journey of her mouth reaches the destination he thinks she has mapped out. At the first whisper of her breath against his cock, he moves to grip the sides of the pillow beneath his head and silently prays that he won't come at the first touch of her mouth.

"Emma, careful…"

 _She isn't._ Her tongue swirls around the tip just once before he feels half of his cock slide between her lips as her hands grip tight at his buttocks. He's completely at her mercy and he's well past the point of calling uncle. Chasing his own pleasure now, he rocks his hips up towards her mouth and everything starts to spin…

She pulls back at that exact moment and he has to blink a few times to register that her hands are now rolling the condom down over his swollen length. Letting go of the pillow he reaches for her as soon as she's done and pulls her back down towards his chest. She tries to position herself, but he holds firm, begging her to slow down with the gentle slide of his lips.

"Need a moment, love."

With no resistance, she lets him roll her onto her back and welcomes him as he lowers himself between her thighs. He doesn't move his body, just his mouth, in soft, probing kisses until he can see past the throbbing pressure of his cock and feel the soft pillows of her breasts against his chest and the heat of her palm along his spine. It's only then that he shifts his hips, letting his cock slide against her, coating the condom with her warmth.

"Emma...god, love…"

Her hips fall open and he finds his way home and it's everything and more than he'd been imagining. As she stretches to accommodate him he just stares into her eyes and watches as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks the moment he begins to move. Her legs come up to wrap around his waist and he sinks deeper, finding a place he aims to returns to with each strong thrust that follows.

Soon though, the sound of his name slipping from her lips between kisses quickly drives him to the very edge of his sanity. Pushing up and back on his knees, he pulls her hips towards his lap, holding her steady so he can drive forward, faster, harder, until she's writhing like a vision before him on the mattress.

"Oh fuck! _Killian_..."

Thrusting in hard, he stays deep and finds her clit with his thumb, circling with urgency until she cries out again and he can feel the first clenching of her orgasm. Falling forward, he plasters himself atop her, breathing in her cries as he chases his own release with a few more quick pumps of his hips. He comes in waves, each crest like an undertow pulling him under until he's nothing more than a pile of spent limbs as he sips at her slightly parted lips.

As his skin begins to cool he can feel that they are both sweaty, but he can't seem to stop kissing her and her hands are still holding tight to his hair. Rolling onto his side to alleviate some of his weight, he pulls her with him, trapping one of her legs between his as they end up side by side on his pillow.

"So, any regrets?"

He wishes he could take the words back as soon as he's said them, but he's got his own insecurities that unfortunately, sometimes slip out.

"Only that we waited a month to do this."

Relief hits him like a gale force wind at her words and he lets himself sink back into the moment, registering how calm and content Emma appears to be. Finding the curve of her jaw with his thumb, he passes lightly over her skin until she closes her eyes and snuggles just a bit closer into his side. After pressing a kiss to her forehead he extricates herself with a whispered apology to deal with the condom.

When he returns to the bed he expects to see her on the verge of sleep, but instead finds her leaning against the headboard with the other two condoms resting on her knee.

"Wanna make up for lost time?"

* * *

By the time Emma sits beside him the next day for Christmas lunch, they've made up for lost time on almost every available surface of the cabin. Except this table, which he's now inconspicuously checking for sturdiness with a gentle shake. Her foot grazes his beneath the table and he looks up, the heat behind her eyes evidence that she's well aware of what he's thinking. She doesn't say anything, but he knows.

The meal Granny prepared is delicious, sweet spiral ham and mashed potatoes and green beans mixed with bacon and almonds. The rum he bought the previous day is swirled into their iced tea and with each sip he can see Emma veering further into tipsiness. He suggests they leave the dishes for later when they're finished, instead urging her to cuddle against him by the fire. She falls asleep with her head against his chest and he just stares into the flames, absently stroking his fingers through the curled ends of her hair.

His chest feels heavy, and not because of Emma sprawled over it, but from contentment and happiness and anticipation about what's to come next. It's been so long since he's felt this, allowed himself to be open to even the idea of someone like being in his life in this way. And he knows it's the same for Emma. While he's more than ready to see what comes next, he knows they are headed out on uncharted waters. Maybe his rough seas and her missteps have prepared them both to face the future, with open eyes and healed scars, hand in hand. Thinking back to that day when Anton asked what his plans were, he never could have imagined that the pull in him to stay would lead him to finding what feels like, could be, _home_. He's going to have to ask Anton if he knows of any cabins nearby that might be available to rent.

He's finally dozing off when she begins to stir and he fights to keep his eyes open as sleep pulls at him harder and harder the other way.

"What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

Tightening his arms around her, he whispers his answer into her hair.

"This. Hopefully this."

The kiss she presses to his chest feels like an agreement.

"Do you think you can wait that long to try out the table?"

And suddenly, he's very much awake.

~~~~Happy Holidays!~~~~

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks so much for going on this journey with me. I had this idea to do this story spanning all three holidays and just hoped it might be something others might like to read. I'd love to hear your thoughts on how it came out!_

 _And I may come back with a NYE epilogue, but that's a bit up in air. Consider this story finished, for now... We'll see if I have anything else to add before the end of the year!_

 _Oh, and make sure you check out my tumblr for some amazing art that was done for this fic by a lovely shipmate! ( .com)_


	4. New Year's Eve - Epilogue

The thick leather gloves Killian let her borrow keep the rope from burning her skin, but do little to stop her fingertips from beginning to freeze from the cold. She needs something thermal, or at least some fleece. But Lady Rose is walking peacefully at the end of the lead, seemingly content with Emma as her only companion, and Emma finds herself unwilling to take the horse back to the barn just because she's a little cold. It's an odd thing to have something so powerful let you take the reins and follow without yielding. She can't help but wonder if Killian has felt a similar triumph in his pursuit of her, a challenge he has undoubtedly conquered.

The man in question is still on his phone, his cheeks red from the cold as he listens intently to whatever tale Anton is spinning into his ear. He smiles as he sees her looking and she smiles back, the near constant bloom of affection she feels for him unfurling another petal beneath her breast. She's got it bad. And yeah, that fact still terrifies her, but she's happy and - dammit - being happy is a lot more fun than being scared.

Lady Rose stops to nose into the snow and Emma welcomes the break, crossing to the fence so she can tie the lead to the rail and sit on the edge. She hears the crunch of Killian's boots approaching and she widens her knees, hoping he will take the hint. With an upturned eyebrow, he does. As soon as he's stepped close enough she tightens her knees around his ribs as half frozen fingers grip the puffy lapel of his coat to pull his mouth up to meet hers leaning down. Numb lips make for sloppy kisses and try as she might to keep it romantic, it's just too damn funny not to laugh. She can feel his deep chuckle warm her face as he slides his frigid nose across her cheek and that feeling of happiness just continues to deepen.

"Emma, why are we freezing our bollocks off out here?"

"Sorry buddy, you're the only one with those to freeze, or are you forgetting you are in the presence of two ladies?"

Her breath stutters as slightly warmer lips press a soft kiss to her cheekbone and the tip of her nose and she watches as Killian's eyes open to gaze at her with unguarded affection.

"My two favorite ladies, as a matter of fact."

"What do you say to taking _this_ lady inside to warm her up?"

His answer comes in the form of a kiss, all playfulness forgotten as his tongue slides between her lips and his hands grip hard at the outside of her thighs. Reaching behind his head she pulls at the fingers of her gloves until they end up at his feet in the snow, her fingers now buried deep into the almost frozen thickness of his hair as she locks his body in tighter with her knees. It's entirely too cold to keep this up, but if she wasn't afraid of frostbite she just might consider it. With him now practically devouring her and his hands sliding up inside her coat, she knows she's going to have to be the one to bring this to a pause. He groans against her lips as she pulls his head back by his hair, and fuck, with his eyes as dark as night and his bottom lip wet and kiss swollen, she's suddenly finding it hard to remember she's cold at all. That is, until the freezing leather of his gloves hits the skin beneath her sweater.

"Ah! Cold!"

His eyebrows dance in delight as she tries to wiggle out of his grasp. He thinks he's won, she can tell, until he suddenly finds himself on his back in the snow with her body caging him in. Her knees are now soaked through, but it's worth it to see the look of shock on his face as she lifts a handful of snow up and over his head. Lady Rose chooses that moment to kick backwards from her spot beside them in the grass, sending a spray of cold, wet snow over the both of their heads.

"Okay, okay, old girl...message received. Let's go inside."

"Wait, so you'll listen to the horse, but not me?"

With her body still draped over his, he only has to lean up on his elbows to put his lips back in front of hers, just close enough to feel his breath but far enough away that she'd have to lean down to touch.

"Apologies, love, I got distracted…"

"I noticed."

"Before I get distracted again, why don't you head inside and light a fire. I'll take Lady Rose back to her stall."

Because she can, and because she wants to, she leans down for another kiss. She keeps it soft, slow, but full of promise before pushing herself to her feet. He remains sprawled out in the snow watching her with equal promise in his eyes as she heads back to the cabin to light that fire.

* * *

His fingers are still cold as his hands slide up her bare thighs in front of the hearth. She'd stripped of her wet jeans and socks and was warming herself by the fire when he'd returned, taking just enough time to shed his coat, gloves and boots before pressing his chest up against her back. She doesn't care that his lips are slightly chapped, or that his jeans are rough against the back of her knees, not when her belly is tumbling over with want as his hand slides up further between her legs.

"Fuck...Emma, you're so warm…"

She's more than just warm and when his fingers delve beneath her panties, she shivers at the groan he growls into her neck as he feels how ready she is for his touch. Reaching back for his neck, she urges his mouth to hers over her shoulder and tries to focus on kissing him as her legs to turn to jelly at the movements of his thumb over her clit. It's more than she can take when he slides two fingers inside and she has to brace both hands on the mantle as he proceeds to unrelentingly fuck her with his hand. It's too much, with his denim confined erection pressing hard against her ass and his mouth breathing words of dirty encouragement against her ear. She comes with his free hand plastered over her flannel covered breast and his mouth soothing the mark his teeth had just left along her neck.

"Holy shit…. _holy_...shit."

She yelps a bit as his teeth press down playfully again, but still manages to get a hand behind her to work at the button of his jeans. It's not easy at this angle, but she manages. With his freed cock now sliding between her fingers it's his turn to add to her litany of swearing.

"Fuck, fuck... _Emma_ …"

She lets go at that and his head falls forward into the back of her neck, seemingly too overcome to maintain his balance at her unexpected retreat. As she bends to slide her panties down her legs, his hands reach out to grab at her hips and she can feel him pressing his erection against the small of her back. As she stands, she lifts the edge of her shirt so it bunches at her waist, revealing her now bared - everything. It doesn't take him long to catch on. She hears his pants hit the floor before she feels the hair of his legs press against the back of her thighs as his hands move up and under her shirt to warm the skin of her belly with his palms. Her hands grip the mantle as he aligns himself behind her back and angles his cock between her open thighs, the swollen head nipping at her clit as she bends forward to help him along. She's burning up from the fire and his body and his voice as he begins to whisper her name on a strangled plea.

"Killian, please…"

She cries out as he enters her in one, deep thrust, and his hands grip hard at her hips to hold her steady so he can crash into her again and again. It's been a long time since she's been this thoroughly fucked and as unromantic as that may sound, she feels as though she's literally coming apart at the seams. His complete lack of control has her reeling, walls crumbling, hips pushing back to meet him with equal fervor.

"Fuck, Emma...I can't…"

"Don't...just don't stop!"

"Not a bloody chance in hell, love."

She almost laughs at that, but his hand has moved from her hip to press his thumb down at her clit and her laugh turns into an embarrassing loud moan. It's just another sound to add to their bodies colliding and breaths heaving, a rather porn like cacophony in this remote little cabin in the woods. Her mind stops wandering as the first tingles of her orgasm begin to hit and she lets one hand free of the mantle to reach back to grab a handful of his ass. A string of colorful words fly from his lips at that and his rhythm falters. He stops moving his hips, but not his fingers, and she has to grip the mantle with both hands again as her climax completely unfurls. She can feel her walls clenching around where he's still buried deep and that must have been enough, because she's now supporting his weight against her back as he fills her with his release.

She's sweaty and sticky and sore and... _fuck_ , completely blissed out. Her limbs feel like they belong to a ragdoll as she lifts her arms to let him lift her shirt over her head, adding her flannel to the growing pile of clothes on the floor by their feet. When he turns her around she sees that he's removed his shirt too, and she doesn't hesitate to cuddle into the warmth of his chest as he gathers her in his arms.

"Sorry, my love, I'm usually not that boorish."

"Don't you dare apologize for a single second of that, I swear to god."

His chest rumbles under her ear in amusement at her and she gives the skin of his back a light pinch.

She didn't fail to notice his addition of _'my'_ before that 'love' and if she wasn't already oversensitized, she might be able to pinpoint the exact reaction it's having on her body. All she can tell right now is that it feels good. _Really fucking good_.

"Anton probably won't be happy to find out how many places we've had sex in his house."

"Actually, I have a feeling he won't be remotely concerned. But that's a story for after we shower."

Her curiosity is peaked at that little tidbit. She wants to press him for details, but as he takes her by the hand to lead her to the bathroom all she can think about is hot water and strong hands sliding over her skin.

After the water has run cold and they've both dried off, Emma demands, as she runs her hand over the marks from the shower tiles on her lower back that, _"next time, they are having sex in the damn bed"_.

* * *

After taking a long, luxurious post-shower nap together, Killian rouses her with promises of grilled cheese and champagne. It's _'New Year's Eve after all'_ , as he had to remind her. She agrees, but only if they can eat in bed. He kisses her in agreement, letting her stay beneath the warm covers as he works his magic at the stove. Watching him move about the kitchen in his pajama pants and bare feet, she tries to remember what it felt like before this man was in her life. It's only been two months since they met, but for some reason it feels like longer. Or maybe just the happiness she feels now is stronger than the loneliness she was living in before? She's not sure. All she knows is this, right here with Killian, it's exactly where she's meant to be. And...she knows she's pretty much in love with him, but that's something he doesn't need to know quite yet.

"Here love, can you hold this while I get the champagne?"

Sitting up, she takes the large plate piled with two sandwiches and french fries from his hand and sets it on her outstretched legs. When he turns towards the kitchen, she steals a fry. He "tsks" at her without turning his head and she tosses said fry at the back of his head.

"That's one less french fry for you to eat, Swan."

"Worth it."

He returns to bed with a stupid grin and two glasses nearly overflowing with champagne. Setting them both down on the nightstand, he crawls under the covers beside her and wraps and arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his side.

"Don't you need that hand to eat?"

"Nah, I'll manage."

To prove it, he picks up his sandwich and takes a big bite, waiting until his lips are greasy to smack a kiss to her cheek. He gets an elbow to the rib before she wipes away the mess with the back of her hand.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Aye, but you still love me."

He said that in jest, she's sure, but her cheeks still burn as if he's just been reading her mind. Grabbing her sandwich, she takes a bite instead of trying to think of a response. He doesn't seem to notice her internal freak-out, so she settles into his side and grabs another fry.

"So, Anton. I have some news."

She'd already forgotten all about that. She blames the shower sex.

"Oh yeah, what's up with him?"

"He's getting married."

Complete surprise has her sitting up straight and turning a bit so she can see Killian's face to see if he's pulling her leg. He looks completely serious.

"What? I didn't even know he had a girlfriend."

"He doesn't. He has a boyfriend. Paul. And I guess he's his fiancee now, not his boyfriend, so…"

"Paul. Wow."

Maybe it's because she's a little bit in love herself, but she just feels immensely happy for Anton at hearing this news.

"Aye, apparently they've been spending their winters together these past few years and Paul up and proposed last night. It sounded rather romantic and I could tell that Anton is just over the moon with happiness. He's never sounded lighter, if you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Killian's arm tightens around her waist and she pushes lightly against his ribs as she tries to hold back a smile, and fails.

"There's a bit more, love. He asked if I might be interested in buying the farm."

If she was surprised by the first bit of news, this has definitely hit the level of shocked. She doesn't even know what to say and thankfully, he just keeps talking.

"He said that he'd really only been keeping the farm going because it was what his family used to do, but with them all gone now and Paul offering him a new life, he's ready to move on. He's willing to let me pay him in installments over the next few years just to take it off his hands."

"What did you say?"

She didn't mean that to come out so quickly, but it's out now and he must have heard the real question she was asking in the tone of her voice. She's sure of it when he takes the plate from her lap and moves it to the nightstand so he can turn to face her and take both of her hands in his.

"I said yes. I'm happy here, Emma. I love the animals and the work and more than all of that, every moment I've spent with you. I've found my home here and I can't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else."

She's overwhelmed, and on the verge of tears, so she kisses him before he can say something else that will inevitably make her cry. He draws her over his lap and she deepens the kiss, needing him to understand how happy she is at his decision, even if the only word she can seem to say out loud is "good" before she leans in to kiss him again.

They make love again, this time on the bed, with Killian's back against the headboard and Emma's moving languidly on his lap. She almost tells him she loves him when she comes. Almost says it when they toast in the New Year naked under the covers with their glasses of champagne. And it almost slips out as she feels herself drifting off to sleep.

She tells him in the morning, with the sun reflecting off of the snow, its rays of light welcoming in the first day of the new year.


End file.
